tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76324188814333420012016-10-25T20:15:38.151-05:00Walk GoodKristin Davisnoreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-55769185798787118392013-02-03T22:41:00.000-06:002013-02-03T22:41:07.528-06:00Just as I am&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;And suddenly, she's alone again. I am beginning to realize that I'm truly quite terrible at dating. &nbsp;Not that this realization should shatter anyone's mind. &nbsp;Of course I'm bad at dating! &nbsp;I had never been on a date in my life unless you count the courtship Ryan and I had on my couch in college. &nbsp;So here I am, blindly navigating my way through what can only be compared to a tropical storm - warm and calm at the beginning, destructive in the end. &nbsp;I make mistake after mistake and am only just beginning to realize my errors.<br />&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;At the beginning of this journey, I carefully crept into a relationship with a man who was just as damaged as I was, but for reasons different than my own. &nbsp;We had formed a friendship based on our duel need to lean on someone. &nbsp;The friendship was (and still is) built on a strong foundation of support and understanding. &nbsp;The relationship unfortunately, &nbsp;was better in thought than reality. &nbsp;He wasn't in a place to give me the attention I wanted and often left me feeling empty and alone. &nbsp;We have since continued to build our friendship, of which I wouldn't trade for the world, but the sting of being ignored still leaves a film of rejection on my soul. &nbsp;The second man was everything the first wasn't. &nbsp;He swept in with attention, romance and butterflies. &nbsp;He put a bounce back into my step that I &nbsp;thought was gone forever. &nbsp;To the world he shouted from rooftops how happy I made him. &nbsp;To me, he whispered love. &nbsp;I floated through this relationship wondering how I could have been lucky enough to find such love twice in my life. &nbsp;I ignored danger signs because this is what it can feel like when you have met a soul mate. &nbsp;I know this from experience and jumped feet first into what I thought was true love. &nbsp;In the very quick end, he just left. &nbsp;No explanation, no apologizes...he just left. &nbsp;Now you see me, now you don't. &nbsp;I was devastated, old wounds were opened deep and my carefully pieced together broken heart was once again shattered into a million tiny pieces. <br />&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Some time passed before the third. &nbsp;I went on a few casual dates with nice guys that just weren't the ones. &nbsp;Number three was a complete and utter disaster. &nbsp;He focused his attention on trying to break my calm demeanor. &nbsp;He needed drama and I had none to give. &nbsp;I stuck around for the simple fact that I didn't want to make him sad. &nbsp;I cried myself to sleep trying to accept that this was all I was going to get. &nbsp;I had my true love, he died and now, this was what was left for me. &nbsp;Thankfully, I woke up and remembered that I had choices, it didn't take long to end after that. &nbsp;Number four ambled into my life soon after. &nbsp;Immediately there was something about him that I was drawn to, something that made me feel safe and at ease. &nbsp;Things were normal in the beginning. We spent lots of time together, made plans for the future, gave each other butterflies all day long. &nbsp;Slowly I started to notice signs that were a bit alarming. &nbsp;He never wanted to sleep over, had very little time he was willing to give me. &nbsp;It's not that he was going out or doing something else. &nbsp;He was home, napping, bottling beer, doing laundry. &nbsp;I'll never forget the night I knew deep down it just wouldn't work. &nbsp;I was going through something difficult, it was the first time in our relationship I needed him for more than just fun. &nbsp;I was crying and very, very sad. &nbsp;He stayed and listened until I calmed down and then he left. &nbsp;He didn't need to work in the morning, didn't have anything to do, he essentially just wanted to sleep in his own bed. &nbsp;I asked him to stay and hold me through the night and he wouldn't budge. &nbsp;I should have left then, but loneliness runs deeps and a little attention is better than none. &nbsp; It took a another month, three Friday nights alone and an evening of fun that concluded with him telling me he just didn't love me for it to finally end. &nbsp;He had no reason and honestly, I think I was just too much for him. &nbsp;Like so many times before, I ignored the warning signs that were flashing in my face, I avoided caution and pushed on.<br />&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;I choose the wrong men, I ignore warning signs and silence my own needs and wants all because I don't want to be alone. &nbsp; The two things I want in life are a family and love, my need magnified by the burning memory of a time when I had both. &nbsp;With each relationship comes a new hope of companionship and love. &nbsp;With each end comes the devastating reality of loss, rejection and abandonment, made even worse the older Marley gets as she also experiences the loss. &nbsp;Thankfully, perseverance &nbsp;prevails and I do not give up hope. &nbsp;I've learned some valuable lessons and am ready to try again. &nbsp;This time I will not settle, I will not ignore warning signs and I'll accept nothing but love. &nbsp;I knew a man once who would see his wife from across a room and think her the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. &nbsp;When you love someone, you love the whole person, just as he or she is, and not as you would like them to be. &nbsp;When you love someone, they are all you need, just as they are. &nbsp;I want to be that someone again, just as I am.Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-21775993641086893952012-10-10T17:39:00.000-05:002012-10-10T17:39:54.921-05:00The First Day of the Rest of My Life<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Do not wait until the conditions are perfect to begin. Beginning makes the conditions perfect…”</span><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">It’s been many weeks since I’ve blogged, but honestly, most nights after Marley goes to sleep, all I want to do is have a glass of wine and Watch “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Life is good, often great and I’m happy, content and comfortable most of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s strange how things have changed and I’m struggling to find the words to describe the difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve often blogged about my cloud lifting, about acceptance and understanding, but this change is different, stronger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but it happened fairly recently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I began to notice the change right around the time the school year started,&nbsp;around&nbsp;mid August.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I found myself single again, not that I was ever really taken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Taken would insinuate some sort of mental or physical connection, neither of which I honestly had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’m not sure what I was doing or why I spent so much time floating down a rapid river, bumping and scraping my way through a relationship that often times made my skin crawl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I knew it was wrong, I was more than aware that happiness was far from what I was feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I have no excuse, no reasoning beyond the obvious – if felt good to have someone around, a date to a wedding, a partner in volleyball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I also remember thinking that this was to be my future and that I should accept that I would never be as happy as I was with Ryan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Thankfully, I can now look back and recognize the idiocy of those thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Late August brought about a change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s as if I shed a thick layer, raised the wool from over my eyes and began to see and feel fully again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>People at work started commenting, noticing the bounce in my step and the sparkle in my eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I noticed the change too and here’s where the difficulty to explain begins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s as if I felt myself again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Suddenly I was passionate about my job, cared deeply for my students, looked forward to interacting with their parents and couldn’t wait to see my colleagues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Although surprised by her presence, I immediately recognized this person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It was me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>So why did this happen?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Where did this person come from and most importantly, why didn’t I fully recognize that she was gone?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The answer is anything but easy, but if you’ve followed this blog, maybe you already know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Like a needle in a haystack, I found myself with stamina, perseverance and pure determination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Now I look back over the past two years and marvel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Remembering, from the explosions to the nuances of grief, I cannot believe I survived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It takes feeling like myself again, finally recognized that person in the mirror, to truly comprehend how far I’ve come.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Ends can often bring about new beginnings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>October 10, 2010 was the worst day of my life, but it was also the first day of the rest of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It took many months to accept my new circumstances, but once I found the strength to understand, I also found the ability to begin rebuilding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Once I worked through these obstacles, I was left with one final and daunting task, moving on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This was less a hurdle I needed to jump over and more a barrier between myself and true happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Even though I wanted to move on more than anything, I found myself internally fighting this final complication.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>To me, moving on was letting go, but I now realize that this is not the case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Letting go would be forgetting and I’ll never forget.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Moving on is simply allowing myself to seek out and find happiness again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Moving on is realizing, after my most recent failed attempt at dating, that happiness is not dependent on another person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It took another end to open my eyes to my new beginning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>My life has purpose; I’m grounded in a comfortable routine and centered in my current state of health and happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Codependence is no longer the fuel to my success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What it is however, is still something I seek by choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I spent the greater part of this week remembering, reflecting and worrying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>After all this time, I still occasionally fear that the monster of grief will return to wrap its ugly hands around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Getting through days like today assure me that this will never happen, but my body still physically reacts to the paranoia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>All week I’ve been experiencing these symptoms:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>My eye lid twitches, my stomach hurts, I often feel anxious and even a little dizzy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s okay though because deep down I know today is a hard day, but tomorrow will be better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Tomorrow I can go back to my bubbly self, my happy life, my positive attitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Tomorrow I can spend time with a special friend, a man I recently met that makes me very happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Tomorrow I can go back to dreaming and wondering about what my future holds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Tomorrow I can go back to watching Marley grow and learn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Tomorrow I can go back to feeling very, very lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Today I remember and maybe even grieve, but tomorrow, I’m back to being me.</span><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-82854489775274654842012-08-23T22:05:00.000-05:002012-08-23T22:05:15.974-05:00Reaching Out<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">I started this blog with a desire to share my thoughts and feelings with my closest friends and family.&nbsp; After a few entries, I realized that in writing, I was also helping myself understand, accept, cope and later, move on.&nbsp; Now my hopes for this blog have changed once again.&nbsp; I now see my journey helping others and my words creating a path to positive thinking.&nbsp; I'm beginning to realize that my blog is reaching a wider audience than I ever thought possible.&nbsp; An example of this can be found at:&nbsp; <a href="http://blog.urns.com/?p=303">http://blog.urns.com/?p=303</a> .<o:p></o:p></span>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-18549668106062212412012-08-23T21:55:00.001-05:002012-08-23T21:55:54.833-05:00This Dream is Mine<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 1.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">A few mornings ago I stayed in bed a bit longer than usual, enjoying the feel of my cool pillow against my cheek and basking in a quiet calm my dreaming had surrounded me with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I had been dreaming of Ryan of course, a dream that is asked for more frequently than is unfortunately granted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>As a matter of disappointment, I dream very rarely of Ryan and wish often that this would be different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>A part of me believes strongly that Marley sees him in her dreams regularly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s my experience that children are more open to such visits due, in part, to their receptive and uncluttered conscience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I often stand beside her crib and ask her to say hello to Daddy when she sees him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Send him my love and tell him I miss him, please.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She doesn’t answer, but I know she understands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Although a rarity, I do occasionally dream of Ryan, but usually he is out of my reach, disconnected or distant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This was not the case on this particular morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 1.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>This dream was different, more personal and&nbsp;more real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Like a warm, crackling fire on a crisp fall day, I wrapped myself warmly in its embrace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It was the first time I dreamt of Ryan and Marley together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>There they were, interacting, getting to know one another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I was trying to let Ryan in on the many nuances of Marley’s existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He marveled at how much she looked like him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Later in the dream, it was just the two of us and we were walking towards Alterra Coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ryan and I used to take frequent coffee walks on weekend mornings, talking animatedly the entire way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This was a small something that meant a great deal to me and I had looked forward to doing it as a family. Marley and I often make this journey together and we occasionally talk about Daddy on the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve spent some time wishing and wondering what it would be like for Ryan to join us on these simple excursions which adds to the reality that this dream in itself was a dream come true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>There we were, walking hand in hand down the street, a happy family, laughing, teasing and smiling…finally. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 1.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>This dream was like a gift of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I was unexpectedly given time with Ryan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I was able to show him Marley and was finally able to share in the joy of her accomplishments with the one other person in this world who would think them as enormous as I do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We were able to walk hand in hand as I laughed at his silly jokes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>My favorite part of the dream had us standing in the kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I was bent down picking something up and with a smirk; Ryan threw more of it on the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember looking up and him giving me that crooked, sly grin of his and I instantly felt like I was home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This may seem like a simple gesture to most, but to me it hits the deepest core of our playful relationship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He was constantly teasing me and I was forever eating it up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This was us, Kris and Ry and this wonderful dream allowed me a few minutes of this life back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>A few minutes to feel light-hearted and happy; a few minutes to be a family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>How lucky I feel to have had this time and also how grounded I am in the realization that this dream left me feeling nothing but happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This dream is mine and I will hold it close for a long, long time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-12724123318559485422012-07-18T16:11:00.001-05:002012-07-18T16:11:30.566-05:00In Only Takes a Moment<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Each of us wakes up every morning completely unaware of where the day may take us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We have a general idea of the events that lie ahead, but it’s the unknown that can surprise us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>In a way, this is good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Do we really want to know what our life has in store for us every single moment?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What would life feel like without the unknown?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As I write this, I take a look around my kitchen and let my eyes rest on the changes, big and small, that have taken over my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I see a house, a ranch nonetheless, in a neighborhood that two years ago, I didn’t even know existed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I see furniture, new to my eyes, resting next to toys that were recently played with by little hands that also didn’t exist two years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I too see items that are as familiar as my own reflection:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>A treasured hutch, an overpriced flat screen, a refinished coffee table, a stray cat with the longest tale I’ve ever seen and an overweight dog sleeping on top of an oversized couch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>These are remnants of a life that used to be and memorials to a life that could have been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>They are constants and offer comfort and stability to a life that can sometimes change too quickly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You never know where an hour, a day or a year will take you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Tomorrow you could win the lottery, pay off your house and buy a new car (I suggest a BMW X3).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Next week you might find out you’re pregnant and expecting a bundle of life changing joy in a little over 9 months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>In a year you may find yourself divorced, married, single or widowed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span>Personally, my status changed from childless to pregnant in a minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It took a day to go from married to widowed and in a week I gave away half of my pets (that’s 2/4). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>In a little over a year I found myself no longer living in an urban Victorian, but instead habituating in a two bedroom ranch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve been quoted saying I’d never give away a pet because it would be giving up on a commitment I had promised to keep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve also adamantly proclaimed my hatred towards ranch houses, refusing to even consider them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>And single motherhood?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>No, that would never happen to me, I’m much too careful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>All of these things I confidently said never to, yet all of them happened and they happened quite quickly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>What’s ironic is, I love my little ranch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s full of light, the flow is great and it’s a wonderful and safe place to raise Marley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I love my quiet neighborhood where kids play outside all day, neighbors know each others’ names and traffic is almost nonexistent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I cannot believe I used to love living in a house with no closets, two staircases and a busy street out front.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>As for Brady and Bugs, the pets I sent to loving homes, I very rarely think about them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Honestly, I find myself more often thinking about sending Blotter and Benny to the same home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>These are just a few examples of the unexpected paths life can take.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What I’ve learned is to never say never and to appreciate every minute of my day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve also learned to slow down and take in the moments around me, whether big or small.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Every second of our life is important because it might just be the second that leads to an extraordinary change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Most importantly, I’ve learned to not fear these changes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Life has a peculiar way of working out and as long as we are honest with ourselves, healthy in mind, body and heart, we have the ability to ride out the storms, relax in the calm and enjoy the festivities.</span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-52248147198787321102012-07-12T12:21:00.000-05:002012-07-12T12:21:54.925-05:00A New Direction<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>It’s been many weeks since I’ve last blogged, partly due to a busy and hectic schedule of raising Marley, but mostly because the heavy weight pressing down on my heart has lifted (plus my laptop has been broken).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I started this blog to allow my friends and family a glimpse into my grieving and healing process, but also to guide myself through reflection and towards a comfortable center.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>As you’ve all read, there have been many ups and downs throughout this journey, twists, turns, triumphs and plummets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve worked tirelessly over the last 21 months to rebuild the life that was so quickly shattered into a million pieces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Navigated my way through this storm was a personal challenge of a magnitude I thought I’d never be faced with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Luckily, strength and perseverance have fought their way to the top and have helped greatly with this fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>In many ways I feel like a marathon runner, crossing the finish line and breaking the tape with her outstretched chest; <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>proud of her accomplishment, victorious over her win and exhausted from her journey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Like the runner, I can look back on my race and calculate my decisions and promise the next race to be even better.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Today is July 12, 2012.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s been one year, nine months and two days since I’ve been Ryan’s wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Today I am strong, I am reflective and I am happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve learned how short life can be as well as how painful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I take nothing for granted, never sweat the small stuff and always choose my words very carefully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve learned to appreciate every aspect of my life no matter how trivial because I am lucky enough to be here experiencing it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What if today was the last day of your life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What if tomorrow your family was ripped apart, a loved one stripped from you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Would you want your last memory to be surrounded by an argument over who has to do the dishes or get up with the baby?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Would you want your last feeling to be anger because the driver in front of you was moving too slow?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Bad things can and will happen in life, we must accept that this is out of our control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What we can do however is work to not let the things we can’t control, control us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We can remind ourselves to look on the positive side, savor the small moments, speak to each other kindly and never take for granted what we are lucky enough to have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Take it from someone who knows, we are only given one life and with this life comes ample amounts of happiness and beauty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I personally refuse to let any of this pass me by and will walk through my life with eyes and heart wide open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I guess what I’m saying is, I choose to be happy, to smile, to take in my surroundings and to walk good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I hope my writing can inspire you to do the same and help you to always remember to live the life you love and love the life you live – you only get one chance, never forget that.</span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-7903148190685715982012-04-18T13:24:00.002-05:002012-04-18T13:24:24.685-05:00Some how, Some Way<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Early today Marley was fussing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I brought her into her bedroom and tried distracting here with the items on her dresser.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>As so often happens, her attention was directed towards the two pictures of Ryan that I have set out on her shelf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The minute her eyes locked on the picture, her crying ceased and she said, “Hi” in her Marley sing-song voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This was incredible, but what happened next absolutely floored me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>After a minute of staring, she smiled and softly cooed, “Daddy”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>At the most, you likely believe I’m making this up and at the least exaggerating, but I am telling the story exactly as it happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Somehow, some way, she knows who her daddy is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Somehow, some way, his face calms her.</span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-19404497200893883772012-04-01T22:31:00.000-05:002012-04-01T22:31:42.156-05:00The Person I Am<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">“Maybe I’m crazy, but laughing out loud has made the pain pass by.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>-Dave Matthews</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">It’s been a long time since I’ve written; life has taken over and kept me busy and distracted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve been wanting to blog for some time now in order to explain the changes that have been taking place in my life and to paint a picture of what’s going on, a year and a half later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Life has taken on a strident routine mixed mainly with work and Marley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I find time everyday for exercise and look forward to these treasured minutes as time for quiet reflection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This is my time to think about Ryan, to remember all that I can of the good times, replay some of the repressed memories I have of directly after his death and try to make sense of the many unanswered questions that can still haunt me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This is also the time where I will occasionally let myself linger in the might have been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Don’t get me wrong, for those of you who don’t see me on daily basis, please know that I smile a great part of the day, I laugh and love often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I do however still cry, I still yearn for the touch of my husband, the laugh of my partner and the love of Marley’s father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Life is different now, I am different. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Ironic how for months I fought this change with everything I had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I rejected the very idea that I would become a different person yet here I am, stronger, wiser and maybe even more positive than I ever was before.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>It’s difficult at times to channel Ryan’s wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can barely remember that girl of 18 months ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>18 months – in some ways it seems like no time at all, in others it seems like an eternity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>So much has happened since our final goodbye…would he even recognize me today?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What would Ryan think of the job I’m doing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>How would he react to the changes I’ve made?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Is he looking down on me from someplace, shaking his head in amazement?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Does he laugh when I smile?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Does he want to hurt those who hurt me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>And what about dating?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>How would he feel about the men that have given me attention as of recently?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Which would he like and which would he roll his eyes at?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Would he approve?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The journey of dating has proven to be difficult to say the least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>To go from an intimate relationship of ten years, to having dinner with a stranger is a change I still haven’t entirely wrapped my mind around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve made some mistakes on the way, even blindly thought I was falling in love at one point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Thankfully, I’ve learned from these mistakes, I’ve become aware of my deep rooted fear of abandonment, my distaste for losing control and most importantly, I’ve become familiar with the many deep voids my suffering has left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>These voids are what I need to be the most cautious about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I want so badly to be loved, adored and cherished that I’ve made the mistake of overlooking warning signs, signs that were clearly marked to eyes that were open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I won’t make these same mistakes twice as my guard is now up, my eyes wide open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I do however, plan on falling in love again, it’s in my future and this I’m certain of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I know now that I can and will be happy with another person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This person will never be Ryan and will consequently never completely fill all of my voids, but I’m out there nonetheless, meeting new people, enjoying the company of others and patiently waiting for my opportunity to find another soul mate.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>So that’s where I am now – grounded in routine, centered, calm and hopeful for a future that I’ve long since accepted and have just begun to understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Most importantly, I can say that I’m happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’m at ease with my surroundings and feel blessed to have the things in my life that make me contented:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Marley, friends and family, home and health.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I truly believe in the saying, “Live the life you love, love the life you live” and know now how important it is to live everyday to its fullest, keep a smile and your face and look at the bright side of things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Life is short so of course, one must walk good.</span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-23592892626020758062011-11-27T20:37:00.000-06:002011-11-27T20:37:38.912-06:00Changes<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">“All five horizons revolved around his soul, as the earth to the sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn…” </span><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">Recently, I’ve been looking in the mirror and not entirely recognizing the person looking back at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Outwardly, her face is thinner and she looks older.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Her eyes seem dull and there’s a lack of glow that would only be missed by the people who know her best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>To acquaintances, I imagine I look about the same, but to myself, I look like a different person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I wonder if others have noticed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I worry about these changes and question what I should be doing to combat or reverse them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>For months I have blogged about acceptance and my struggle to grab hold of my new life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>A change has occurred in the sense that I now feel comfortable with my level of acceptance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>To speak frankly, I know Ryan is dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I choose to use this raw word because it best describes the finality of the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He’s not coming back to finish his job as my husband or to begin his role as Marley’s daddy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>And this is where the changes begin.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>On October 9, 2010 I was a wife, half of a relationship and part of an entity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>On October 10 I fell into the wrenching role of grieving widow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>For months I wore this title like the Jewish star of David, sewn onto the outside of everything I wore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>My grief led the way as I meagerly followed behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Today my role has shifted yet again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I am now a single mother, appearing independent, but craving the comforts of codependency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It took me 28 years to recognize the person I was and as Ryan’s wife, I was content with my understandings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Now, after only a few months as Marley’s single mother, I’m struggling to distinguish myself again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’m watching each of my friends turn 30 and bask in the comfort of knowing who they are and what they want in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Their transition made as simply as blowing out the candles on their birthday cakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This thought makes me sad as the recent changes in my life took the chance of a simple and happy transition away from me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>My life has changed; a future once clearly mapped out is now a blank slate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>There are a few islands floating in this sea of uncertainty however, such as my dream of having a complete family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I still see myself in the rambling old house, creaky floors and painted cupboards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I see children in pajamas and a husband, a father, making breakfast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I feel another person in my bed, hear our whispers and crave our laughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve accepted that this person cannot be Ryan, although I would be lying if I said I didn’t occasionally insert him into the fantasy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s unfair and tragic that I can now only dream of this life because not too long ago, I had everything I just described and I was incredibly content in the knowledge of my own happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This thought reminds me that I must be careful because a person could easily get lost in her past, overwhelmed and suffocated by her what ifs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Consequently, I know the only option for me is to move forward, look to the positive and find happiness where I can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s a struggle everyday to choose this thorny path because its direction is so uncertain and the many obstacles are bound to make traveling slow and difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Regardless of the challenges, I’ve made a conscious decision to move forward because standing still, or worse yet, walking backwards will bring me no closer to the future I desire, a future where I can begin to recognize the person looking back at me in the mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I wonder what it will take to look into my eyes again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What do I need to fill the void that I feel inside my heart?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Will I continue to grow stronger and feel happier?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Will I get that crazy mixed up feeling of excitement back?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>That feeling I was so used to, but now can barely remember?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Will life overflow with happiness again and if it will, when?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>When will this happen for me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What do I need to do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I realize these are questions only time can answer, but I can’t help but wish for a crystal ball, a sign, anything to reassure me that good things are coming, traveling with companionship, assurance and comfort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve learned firsthand that times can heal wounds, but I wonder…can it also fill voids?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-5758780991315354962011-11-05T10:43:00.001-05:002011-11-27T20:27:26.604-06:00Couldn't have said it better myself...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wHuJrYn3xRA/TrVZOCsYZqI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/Kh9l7qlkpDk/s1600/442745063_YZmALQWw_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wHuJrYn3xRA/TrVZOCsYZqI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/Kh9l7qlkpDk/s320/442745063_YZmALQWw_b.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-79891211385341934332011-10-07T22:49:00.001-05:002011-10-07T22:59:17.073-05:00One Year Later<span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"></span> <br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">Below is a raw essay I wrote late one evening after a long and quiet night at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I paid no attention to the flow of my words or the structure of my writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I simply wrote exactly what was on my mind at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>At first I wasn’t going to publish it, but after some thought, decided it paints an accurate picture of where my mind will still occasionally go and where my spirit will sometimes wallow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Especially now, nearing the anniversary of Ryan's death, I think it’s important to accept that these moments still come and will probably continue to visit me, maybe forever…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><em>Where do I even begin?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Life is…different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Life used to be so easy, it really was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I was taken care of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ry was here to make sure I was looked after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He did everything for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He fixed what was broken, fed and cared for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He promised me a future where I really had nothing to worry about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember driving home from work one day thinking that all I needed in life was Ryan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I didn’t care how much money we made, where we lived, who we were friends with or how our lives turned out – I just wanted Ry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember how much I looked forward to coming home to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>How I couldn’t wait to get dressed up for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He made me feel so alive, so sexy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He had a way of looking at me that made me walk with a bounce in me step, my head held high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I bought clothes because I thought that he would like them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I did everything for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He was my everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>My favorite things in life revolved around Ryan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>There was never any judging, we were partners in crime!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Who cared if we drank too much wine at dinner, who cared that we had spent too much money, who cared that we made decisions that may not have been the best?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>We had each other and that’s really all that mattered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><em>I find it hard to believe that he is gone and I still flash back to that night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember everything as if it were yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember Travis coming over, ordering meat lovers pizza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He took charge and in a way, made the situation seem worse than I had thought it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He wanted to go to the hospital, see what we could find out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This seemed excessive to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Why do we need to go anywhere?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Shouldn’t we wait at home?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I was sure he’d show up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember calling the hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can feel the couch under me, smell my living room, see the lights of Wauwatosa Avenue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember thinking that the nurse on the phone sounded strange.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember being put on hold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Paul Simon was on the radio-how is that possible?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember thinking that “Slip Sliding Away” was a strange song to be hearing, more than a coincidence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I never thought he was dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>They knew nothing on the phone, or so they said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It was time to go, Travis was ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I needed to do one last thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I ran upstairs to get my shoes or something, no, it was to close the bedrooms doors so that Brady wouldn’t ruin the pillows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>There was someone at the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Oh good, it was the police, I wondered what took them so long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Oh no, Blotter is jumping all over them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I apologized, felt a little embarrassed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Oh, they’re asking me to sit down – wait, there’s two now, there was only one before…this can’t be good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I wonder what they found out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“I’m sorry miss, but he passed away.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>A look of sympathy in their eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>No, no, no, no, no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I am screaming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I am on the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>no, no, no, no no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Wait, they must be joking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>You’re joking right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Travis is picking me off the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>More screaming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Travis is setting me in the big chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Still screaming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ryan’s dead?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Do they know I’m pregnant?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can’t breathe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>A police officer is rubbing my back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Travis is on the phone with my mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“You need to get down here NOW.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’m still screaming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can hear someone ask Travis to identify the body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I think they are showing him on a cell phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>There’s whispering, questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>They are asking me questions and telling me nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Do they know I’m pregnant?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I don’t want to be pregnant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can’t do this alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; I'm s</span>o scared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><em>The night went on from there and continued for a very long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>One day that changed everything and I’m ready to be done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I don’t want this day to continue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I want a new day, a bright day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I want happiness and fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I want to take vacations with someone I can cause trouble with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I want to go out to dinner and drink too much wine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I want to feel safe and loved, worshiped and taken care of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I deserve these things and want to find them again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I don’t want to be judged or watched in everything I do. I just want to be me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can barely remember Ryan’s Kristin, but would give anything to be that person again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can’t, it’s not possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I need to be a different Kristin, no longer Ryan’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>That fucking sucks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>It’s bullshit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>And there, I said it and it’s true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’m allowed to say it because this is my life and it is indeed fucking bullshit that someone like Ryan is no longer here.</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">And an essay I wrote today....</span></div><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I know you’ve all been watching and waiting, wanting to hear how I’m feeling, wondering if I’ll be able to get through this weekend without melting down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>There have been so many feelings and emotions running through me this week, I don’t even know where to begin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I do know that I have a lot to say and am just going to open the faucet and let it pour out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I apologize if this entry is, as Ry would say, discombobulated, but if it is, it will adequately reflect my current state of mind.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; My emotions have been running hot and cold lately and I’ve been struggling to make sense of the new and strange feelings I’m encountering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’m not having bad days as much as I’m having bad moments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The change in the season has brought about feelings inside of me that I don’t entirely understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Some days I’ll be wrapped in sadness because the weather feels like it did those days immediately following Ryan’s death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>All of a sudden, stagnant memories come alive and flash through my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember sitting on the couch listening to this strange sound, wondering what it was and where it was coming from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>After a while, I realized the sound was coming from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Every few minutes my body would gasp, as if it had forgotten and was just remembering that I was&nbsp;alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember making a comment about the sound and my dad telling me I’d been making it for days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I also remember taking a walk with my family, my parents and my brother, around my block and through the village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It had been the first time I had been outside without Ryan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Not the first time without his presence, but the first time outside in a world where he didn’t exist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember looking around and feeling surprised that everything could look the same, but feel so different.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">I believe it may have something to do with post traumatic stress, but this week, for the first time, I’ve had memories run through my mind that I hadn’t been able to remember before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; Suddenly, </span>I can&nbsp;remember the last week of Ryan’s life as if it were yesterday – I remember everything.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"></span><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><strong>Sunday</strong>.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Exactly&nbsp;one week before he died, we went out to lunch at the Chancery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I was cold so he let me wear his Packer hoodie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He made a joke about how he hoped, when I was 8-9 months pregnant, the hoodie would actually fit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Then we planned out the pictures we’d take of our bellies, side by side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Man, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>that was going to be funny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>There was never a thought in my mind that it wouldn’t actually happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>During lunch we watched the Packer game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ry drank beer, and assured me a few sips wouldn’t hurt anybody.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Later he drove all over town trying to find a baby store that was open because he knew that’s what I wanted to do.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><strong>Monday.&nbsp; </strong>&nbsp;I called him from work and told him I was feeling a little nauseous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>In less than an hour he had showed up with boxes of crackers and soda water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He also help hang a bulletin board behind my desk, which is still there today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Who would have thought that would be the last time he helped me in my classroom?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Later that night we went out for dinner at PF Cheng’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ry had a whisky and Coke, I had a small glass of red wine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It was very romantic and we talked about how we wanted to take our baby to Ireland in the summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ryan was excited to carry him or her in the baby Bjorn as we toured the country.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><strong>Tuesday.&nbsp;&nbsp;</strong>This&nbsp;was a monumental day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We had both taken off of work because it was my first doctor’s appointment and Ry wanted to be there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He wanted to be there for all of my doctor’s appointments, no matter how insignificant they were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember getting to the hospital and stopping for lattes at the coffee cart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember meeting the Midwife and how much Ryan loved her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>They talked shop for so long I remember thinking, “Wait a minute, isn’t this supposed to be about me?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She later said to my doctor that she had never connected with a couple the way she did with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember Ryan asking her to please assure me that a little bit of wine was okay during a pregnancy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I also remember being on the table, legs in stirrups, being asked to spread my legs just a little further and Ryan saying, “Come on, Kris, whaddaya scared of?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><strong>Wednesday.&nbsp; </strong>&nbsp;I had a bad night at Grad school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I came home crying, crawled into Ry’s lap and he comforted me like only he could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>(see<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;post:&nbsp; My Forever</span>). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Wednesday was also the last night we spent together in our bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He held me tight and whispered in my ear how lucky he was and how much he loved me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We slept like this almost every night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><strong>Thursday.&nbsp;&nbsp;</strong>In the&nbsp;morning he took my picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He said he couldn’t believe how beautiful I looked and wanted to capture the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I used the photo as my Facebook profile pic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s the last picture I have of myself before everything changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I look so different.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><strong>Friday.&nbsp;&nbsp;</strong>In the&nbsp;afternoon I took a long jog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I came home right as Ryan was pulling out of the driveway, on his way to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He got out of the car, gave me a hug and told me I was glowing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;"><strong>Saturday.</strong> The last day of his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He came home from work and detailed my car inside and out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I was cleaning the house and barley spoke to him until lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He had gone to a hot dog place on North Ave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We ate Chicago style dogs and Root Beers on the back porch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He had stopped at a bunch of rummage sales and had bought tons of silly stuff like a six foot tall cat climber.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We sat in the sun, talked, dreamed, loved each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He was excited to go to the hot dog festival the place was throwing in a few weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This was the last time we’d sit down and eat together, the last time I’d laugh at his jokes, the last time we’d talk about our baby together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What would I have done if somehow, I’d have known he was going to die?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>After hot dogs I showered and he went to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I was heading to the mall and he had to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Before I left we had what would end up to be our last moment together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He was lying in our bed, both dogs next to him and at least one cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I told him I had planned on spending mad amounts of money and like always, he said I deserved it and to have fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>OH, and buy him something!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I climbed into bed with him for a bit, snuggled and loved him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I got up and kissed him goodbye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Told him I missed him already.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Have a good night at work, can’t wait to see you tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Then I left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>That was the last time I saw my husband…ever.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">I called him that night, from the mall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I had bought him jeans at Banana Republic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remember the sales lady telling me they were a final sale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I said that was fine, no worries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ry had been a 36/32 since I met him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What if somehow I would have known that those were the jeans I’d end up sending to the funeral home?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">I called him from the mall, told him about his new jeans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I told him I loved him and really missed him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He missed me too, couldn’t wait to see me tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This was the last time I spoke with my husband; the last time I told him I loved him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I thought I missed him then; I would have never been able to imagine how much I miss him now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And the rest is history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I never saw Ryan again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>So here I sit one year later, remembering.&nbsp; I'm not sure how this weekend is going to play out or what it will feel like to wake up on October 10.&nbsp; I do know that I plan on being strong, holding myself together like I have been doing for 12 months now.&nbsp; I plan on kissing my baby and hugging my friends.&nbsp; I plan on taking a moment to be thankful for the blessings&nbsp;I have, including being lucky enough to experience one true great love.&nbsp; I plan on praying quietly just in case he can hear me and making sure he knows, no matter what path my life takes, he will forever be loved and remembered&nbsp;by me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"></div></span>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-55375722208531628602011-09-14T12:27:00.000-05:002011-09-14T12:27:20.331-05:00A Thank You<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;;">To The Liz Logelin Foundation:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>My Name is Kristin Davis and I am 29 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I am a mother, teacher, runner, traveler, reader and as of October 10, 2010, I am a widow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>For months following the sudden death of my husband, Ryan I identified myself as only a widow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I had not only lost my husband on that tragic day, but also my self – my humor, my hope, my smile, my dreams, my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Through the heavy haze of grief, I could only see a future of sadness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Not even the fact that I was expecting our first baby could penetrate the loneliness and despair I was feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Life as I knew it was over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I was going through the motions of life in a complete daze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I watched my body swell with life, a life that Ryan and I had created together and still, all I could think about was the loss my unborn daughter experienced, a loss she wasn’t yet aware of, but a loss that would affect her for her entire life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She would never meet her father, never hold his hand, never feel his kisses, hear his voice, experience his humor or ride on his shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Her life, I feared, would never feel complete, would always have this loss shadowing her true happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Months later however, her birth set into action a small change.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>When I looked into my daughter’s eyes for the first time, I saw my husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Her birth proved that he existed, he was here and he mattered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She looked at me and it was as if we shared a secret language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Her eyes said, “I know Mom, I love him too”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>For the first time in months, I began to feel my life coming back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I now had a purpose again, I was a mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I began to see my future take shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I would take care of this child, give her everything she needed and show her the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I would be a mother and I would be a widow and this seemed enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>To my surprise, life continued to change after a chance meeting with another widow, a widower in fact who was also a parent! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I met Matt Logelin at a book signing that I almost didn’t attend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>My daughter, Marley was having a hard day, screaming, crying, fussing and as often happened, my emotions were reflecting hers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remembered thinking this life of mine was too difficult and questioning how I’d ever manage on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Thankfully I pulled myself up, drove to the signing and met Matt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Here was this man who lost his wife just as suddenly and tragically as I had lost my husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>His person was gone and he was surviving, thriving in fact as a bestselling author and from what I could tell, a fantastic father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I told him my story and he shared his resources with me including information on The Liz Logelin Foundation and Camp Widow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I think he could see the pain in my eyes and feel my loss as only someone who has experienced such tragedy can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This is when life really started to change.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Bookman Old Style&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>Thanks to the Liz Logelin Foundation I was able to attend the 2011 Camp Widow Conference in San Diego, California.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It was there that I began to feel parts of myself return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I met other widows and widowers who defined themselves in many ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I met artists, parents, doctors, athletes and comedians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>These people had lost just like I had, but were still moving forward and still living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>From that moment on I began to see myself for who I truly was – a mother, teacher, runner, traveler, reader and yes, a widow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I will always be a widow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I will always carry the pain and grief that accompanies a loss such as mine, but thanks to Matt, the Foundation and all of the wonderful people I met at Camp Widow, I now realize that I am so much more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Thank you for helping me find myself again. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>I will forever be grateful for the good that you do and the good that you brought to my life, a life that is now defined by more than just widowhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-25646285066588903732011-08-28T20:58:00.000-05:002011-08-28T20:58:15.850-05:00A Sunday Evening<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>I’m lonely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The hours between six and eleven pm can be some of the longest, quietist hours of my day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This is the time when my street settles down and families retreat indoors to share dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This is the time when a husband and wife should be cooking dinner, sharing stories and putting their babies to bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I do these things alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This evening I quietly gave Marley a bath, put her pajamas on, fed, snuggled and sang her to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I cleaned up a bit, poured a bowl of cereal and sat alone at my kitchen table. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span>I try so hard, fight everyday in fact, to not let my heart drowned in thoughts of what might have been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Tonight I gave in, allowed myself to remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remembered late last summer, sitting on the front porch with Ry, drinking wine and talking about nothing and at the same time, everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I miss so badly having a person to share my nothings with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This small nuance of marriage is what I miss the most.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I didn’t ask for a single life, yet here I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I loved being married in every way and still cannot believe I sit here today alone, single and sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Missing the life I had, remembering the person I shared everything with and wondering what next…</span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-85029988873751180872011-08-20T00:55:00.001-05:002011-08-20T01:23:07.943-05:00Walk Good<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I realize that this blog is a small voice heard by only a select few, but I yearn for my message to be spread further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>If I could scream it from the rooftops, I would:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Live the life you love and love the life you live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I look at you and wonder how you can be sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’m not a narcissist, I realize that although devistating, my loss does not trump other tragedies, nor has it stopped the world from turning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I know that you are allowed to be sad and that regardless of how trivial the matter, life will sometimes get you down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I just need you to know that life is short, too short to spend your time wishing away the life you are leading, the life that you are lucky to have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>If I could shake you I would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Look around!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Are you lucky enough to have a spouse to come home to?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Are your kids healthy and loved?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Does your house have a roof?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Is there food on your table?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Life is good and we are lucky to have it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We can choose to spend our days wishing for things that might have been or thinking of reasons why life isn't fair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We can choose to do this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We can also choose to look around us with eyes wide open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Choose to see the sunshine and light that illuminates our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We are given one chance on this earth, one chance to make a life for ourselves that we can enjoy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We are also given the power of choice and although things happen, sometimes terrible, heart wrenching things that we cannot control, we can always control our choices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I choose to be happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This isn’t always the easiest choice as I often feel the dark cloud of loss and loneliness creeping into my soul, but I fight to see the light and I choose to walk good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I hope you choose to walk with me.</span><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gQB2_Z1g0_g/Tk9MMPaEwbI/AAAAAAAAAEM/y3pr4aBZsDQ/s1600/walk+good.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239px" qaa="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gQB2_Z1g0_g/Tk9MMPaEwbI/AAAAAAAAAEM/y3pr4aBZsDQ/s320/walk+good.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-57307556053755905332011-07-28T22:29:00.000-05:002011-07-28T22:29:58.423-05:00Little Darling of Mine<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">I would be happy to watch paint dry as long as Marley was in my arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She makes me happy in the purest sense of the word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She grounds me to a life of purpose and is the light at the end of my tunnel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What happened to me was terrible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Losing my person, Marley’s father, was the worst thing imaginable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can remember crying, sobs thrashing through my body and hearing my mother begging my father to do something, anything to make me stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It was at that point where I thought my life would never be happy again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Truth be told, I didn’t even want to be pregnant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I just wanted it all to go away – everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>All I wanted was Ryan.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Now I have my Marley and what a team we make.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I love pushing her through the mall, even when she cries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I love when people stop us to gush over how adorable she is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s me and her against the world and even though it will never be totally complete without Ryan, life feels settled and to be honest, it feels complete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Marley completes me in a way I never thought possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She is my everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Being a mother is the greatest accomplishment of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Those of you who are, know, and those of you who aren’t, will never know until you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Today I am happy to say…I feel lucky. Today I feel lucky and I feel happy. </span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-15467073745377687052011-07-25T23:49:00.000-05:002011-07-25T23:49:59.513-05:00The Sound of Silence"My eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light that split the night and touched the sound of silence." -Paul Simon<br /><br />I heard his voice tonight.&nbsp; <br /><br />After ten months, I heard his voice for the&nbsp;first time.&nbsp; It was a simple voice message sent to a friend at 12:15 am the morning that he died.&nbsp; "Don't listen to it tonight" was the advice given to me.&nbsp; Yeah right.&nbsp; I didn't cry, I didn't yell,, I didn't shout.&nbsp; Instead I sat very quietly, as if making a sound would make his noise go away.&nbsp; I listened to this message countless times, letting the sound permeate my mind and my soul.&nbsp; I even rested the phone on my chest, thinking the vibration would bring him closer.&nbsp; I'm okay.&nbsp; I feel quiet and reflective.&nbsp; The pain doesn't&nbsp;asphyxiate me anymore, but does lay heavy on my chest.&nbsp; I wish I could breath freely, but irrationally, I&nbsp;feel it's wrong to completely open my lungs.&nbsp; I need to find a way to breath free, need to keep working forward.&nbsp; I'm glad I heard his voice today - a gentle reminder of what was and what is.<br /><br />Simply stated, I miss him tonight and every minute of every day.&nbsp; I didn't need to hear his voice to know this...<br /><em><br /></em>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-50170561387125484792011-07-19T23:20:00.000-05:002011-07-19T23:20:03.809-05:00Secrets to Burden<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">My mind is polluted with stories and images that I’d like to share, but am afraid will scare you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s difficult managing the burden of these thoughts alone, but it is mine to hold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’m a master at storing these stories in the far reaches of my mind, but they often push their way to the front and show themselves without mercy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The moment the police told me my husband was dead is as much a part of me as anything else, yet I hesitate to offer this secret to anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It can be very lonely working to keep this all inside, but I hesitate to share because it’s not like me to bring you down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’m used to making people smile and these stories, these images and these thoughts will not make you smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Each morning I wake up feeling stronger than the next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>My life is beginning to take shape and I’m able to appreciate the small and happy nuances of the everyday again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This does not mean however, that my mind is clear of grief or that I don’t want to talk about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>In some ways it’s validating to share my struggle with you as it allows you to see me for who I now am – a person who has survived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>So don’t be afraid to ask, to listen and to cry as I open my heart to you and show you what I’ve endeared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Don’t be afraid of making me sad or of dredging up bad memories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>These memories are with me always, a constant companion in a life I’m rebuilding from the ground up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Every question will come with an answer and bring you closer to my reality while at the same time alleviating small bits of the burden I carry to keep these moments to myself. </span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-37719376221682247702011-07-13T22:35:00.000-05:002011-07-13T22:35:53.932-05:00A Single Life<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">I never gave the notion of being a single mother too much thought, even after I knew it was to be my inevitable future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Living this lifestyle and gaining experiences has brought me to a few recent conclusions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Being a single mother is a full time job, but so is being any kind of mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>My day in its entirely revolves around taking care of Marley, but show me a mother who lives any other way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s not being a single mother that I find difficult, it’s being single and it’s living alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">A few nights ago I was rocking Marley and watching the neighborhood through my picture window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I wanted so badly to be quietly talking with my husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Maybe we would be sharing stories of our daughter, our day or our future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Maybe we would have been watching television and laughing together. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Living alone is quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I find myself sitting alone and missing the times when I’d be waiting for my husband to come home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Alone time was treasured, but are you really alone when you’re waiting for someone to return?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">The point of marriage I think, is to never be alone – codependent by choice, dependent on the noise of marriage, the laughter, the conversation and even the arguments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I miss this noise and look forward to a time when Marley can contribute more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I imagine she’ll have Ryan’s humor and my tendency to exaggerate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ll welcome her stories, fact or fiction because they’ll break up the quiet routine of living single.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>In one aspect, I am very lucky – I have Marley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s a gift left to me that promises I’ll never truly be alone again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"></div></span>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-81562073957777380712011-07-04T23:41:00.000-05:002011-07-04T23:41:32.251-05:00My Person<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">“Don’t cry because it’s over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Smile because it happened.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>-Dr. Seuss</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">It’s nearly impossible to escape the fireworks on Independence Day weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>You can try to hide, but unless you rid yourself of all your senses, you’re likely to see their glow, hear their bang or feel their vibration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This weekend was hard and I missed Ryan a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Similar to experiencing the fireworks, each of my senses contributed to my feeling of loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It wasn’t just my husband that I lost on October 10, I lost my person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I lost the person I told my secrets to, the person I shared my frustrations with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I lost the person who fed me, built me closets and painted my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I lost my friend, my drinking buddy, my entertainment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ryan was my person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He kissed the back of my neck and held me tight at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He told me I was beautiful and meant it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ryan was the person I traveled with, went out to dinner with, played poker with and drank too much at concerts with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ryan was the person who sat next to me on an airplane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>He was the person who I came home to at night, who made me dinner, who watched TV with me… </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Ryan was there when I pierced my belly button.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">He was there when my car was stolen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Ryan was there the first time I saw the ocean.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">And every time after that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Ryan was there the day Blotter arrived.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">He was there for Brady, Benny and Bugs as well.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">He was there when I graduated college.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">He was there to take my picture the day I interviewed for my job.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">And to answer the phone the day it was offered to me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Ryan was there the day we got lost on the river.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">There to build every single campfire.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Ryan was there to say, “I do” at our wedding.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">He was there to buy and sell our first house.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">There to buy our second.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Ryan was there when Paul Simon winked at me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">He was there when I started teaching at UWM.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Ryan was there to help make Marley.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">And there when my body started to change.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">He was there for my first doctor’s appointment.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Ryan was there for my first craving.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">There to say, “I love you”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">To say, “I miss you”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">This person, my person, is gone and I can’t help but feel like he took a huge part of who I was with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Initially, I fought this notion, fought the prospect of rebuilding my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>For many months all I could see was the past and I refused to believe that the person I was becoming was in anyway different than the person I once was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I now see clearly what I couldn’t accept before – I am different and it’s okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s okay because this new person is a survivor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She’s still able to smile at life and see the good around her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She’s beginning to feel grounded in her surroundings and feels calm a great deal of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This person is also tragically lonely, but lucky enough to be surrounded by many who love her deeply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>But I am different because I lost my person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I am different, but it’s okay.</span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-57252095157058242362011-06-19T17:10:00.000-05:002011-06-19T17:10:23.411-05:00Happy Anniversary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O-EEmc-pwp8/Tf5x8MgtN6I/AAAAAAAAADE/i45mDTVHRxk/s1600/bridge.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O-EEmc-pwp8/Tf5x8MgtN6I/AAAAAAAAADE/i45mDTVHRxk/s320/bridge.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DTEyn6ozbYw/Tf5yEmibigI/AAAAAAAAADI/heqKALJpWL8/s1600/cake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" i$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DTEyn6ozbYw/Tf5yEmibigI/AAAAAAAAADI/heqKALJpWL8/s320/cake.JPG" width="216px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j2ZDck8AOmA/Tf5yQDKVmfI/AAAAAAAAADM/rNoGC2swg3E/s1600/dancing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j2ZDck8AOmA/Tf5yQDKVmfI/AAAAAAAAADM/rNoGC2swg3E/s320/dancing.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QK6a03oc5EU/Tf5yYkWZNwI/AAAAAAAAADQ/sKSaG2vSl-w/s1600/friends.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QK6a03oc5EU/Tf5yYkWZNwI/AAAAAAAAADQ/sKSaG2vSl-w/s320/friends.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0eqkRiBuIsY/Tf5yftN-ANI/AAAAAAAAADU/-JMYGfdovUU/s1600/garter+toss.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0eqkRiBuIsY/Tf5yftN-ANI/AAAAAAAAADU/-JMYGfdovUU/s320/garter+toss.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IxSt19r11RM/Tf5ypGd-oKI/AAAAAAAAADY/XkOvPab9ip0/s1600/group.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IxSt19r11RM/Tf5ypGd-oKI/AAAAAAAAADY/XkOvPab9ip0/s320/group.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6bRSG869HjU/Tf5yysXYB-I/AAAAAAAAADc/sQms0_GXnTM/s1600/henry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6bRSG869HjU/Tf5yysXYB-I/AAAAAAAAADc/sQms0_GXnTM/s320/henry.JPG" width="216px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WmMUo3vrBH8/Tf5y4dmZU4I/AAAAAAAAADg/Dg0N2GtmFOU/s1600/high+school+pals.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WmMUo3vrBH8/Tf5y4dmZU4I/AAAAAAAAADg/Dg0N2GtmFOU/s320/high+school+pals.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oSzIv5QT7Ko/Tf5y9nclvqI/AAAAAAAAADk/tEgnX5eORk4/s1600/horse.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oSzIv5QT7Ko/Tf5y9nclvqI/AAAAAAAAADk/tEgnX5eORk4/s320/horse.JPG" width="216px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8IcX7aNIoq0/Tf5zEMDvsyI/AAAAAAAAADo/H9gKxc43UQM/s1600/kiss.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8IcX7aNIoq0/Tf5zEMDvsyI/AAAAAAAAADo/H9gKxc43UQM/s320/kiss.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pV_S8nM5WGs/Tf5zIfKgfHI/AAAAAAAAADs/Jt8Lp8ZXvMM/s1600/large+group.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pV_S8nM5WGs/Tf5zIfKgfHI/AAAAAAAAADs/Jt8Lp8ZXvMM/s320/large+group.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nvXg7muAJAs/Tf5zOjtg5eI/AAAAAAAAADw/kQP3gsN8InQ/s1600/sweet+boy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nvXg7muAJAs/Tf5zOjtg5eI/AAAAAAAAADw/kQP3gsN8InQ/s320/sweet+boy.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SczHGGOmnCk/Tf5zS9Uyu3I/AAAAAAAAAD0/wBjjBln8o6U/s1600/the+look.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SczHGGOmnCk/Tf5zS9Uyu3I/AAAAAAAAAD0/wBjjBln8o6U/s320/the+look.JPG" width="216px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xo54ZsNs4Kw/Tf5zdFMU7sI/AAAAAAAAAD4/7_JFeKe4lxU/s1600/toast.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xo54ZsNs4Kw/Tf5zdFMU7sI/AAAAAAAAAD4/7_JFeKe4lxU/s320/toast.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L6hCQjE79i4/Tf5ziNaC-BI/AAAAAAAAAD8/BdlDAu1bjGc/s1600/trolly.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L6hCQjE79i4/Tf5ziNaC-BI/AAAAAAAAAD8/BdlDAu1bjGc/s320/trolly.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8lMeym9Aj80/Tf5znAYp5CI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Q48SqaeIgyE/s1600/trouble.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8lMeym9Aj80/Tf5znAYp5CI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Q48SqaeIgyE/s320/trouble.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div>Yesterday marked the sixth anniversary of the happist day of my life.&nbsp; Love you, Ry.Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-51204220436683020222011-06-16T23:18:00.000-05:002011-06-16T23:18:49.391-05:00Ryan's Wife<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">I miss being Ryan’s wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I miss the attention he would shower on me, the compliments and the adoration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>A memory showed itself today as I was running down the parkway that allowed me to reminisce on what a safe and wonderful place being Ryan’s wife truly was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I remembered running down the same parkway in early September when Ryan unexpectedly pulled up in the PT Cruiser with Blotter and Brady, all three of their heads hanging out the window, one looking sillier than the next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“Hey Sexy, jog here often?” was his opening line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>After a little more sass, his true intentions were shown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Turns out, instead of cooking the delicious and healthy meal I had expected, he had decided we should go out for dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Of course, this idea sounded fabulous to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>So what if it was a Tuesday, I had to work early the next morning and oh, weren’t we supposed to be saving money? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>He was too cute to resist, driving my car and hanging out with the dogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>After I agreed, he waved goodbye and watched as I ran ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Slowly, he pulled up beside me yet again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“What is it this time?” I asked with mock exasperation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“Damn you look good!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>How’d I get such a hot wife?” was his reply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">I miss being Ryan’s wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I miss the confidence that his love presented.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Today I also thought back to the many times in Jamaica when he would stay on the beach to play dominos with a local while I’d go back to the room to shower and change for dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Regardless of who he’d be playing, upon my arrival, I’d always be greeted with a similar response:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“Hey ‘mon, THAT’S your wife?” in which Ryan would reply, “Yeah, told you she was good looking…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">He loved me, he adored me and I miss him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I miss being Ryan’s wife.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9MBttzUZnhI/TfrViZhd-AI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zwBA6zcsLX0/s1600/Wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9MBttzUZnhI/TfrViZhd-AI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zwBA6zcsLX0/s320/Wedding.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-29247919149887735022011-06-11T09:07:00.000-05:002011-06-11T09:07:45.968-05:00Marley Ryan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5WzVjBXg6A8/TfN1EpK4cpI/AAAAAAAAACs/Ds5UZBpYG4w/s1600/Milk+Coma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5WzVjBXg6A8/TfN1EpK4cpI/AAAAAAAAACs/Ds5UZBpYG4w/s320/Milk+Coma.jpg" t8="true" width="320px" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">She looks just like Ryan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I stare down on her sleeping face and I see my husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She is proof that he existed, he was here, and he made a difference.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Marley Ryan Davis was born May 7, 2011 at 2:35 pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She weighed 6 pounds, 5 ounces, was 20 inches long and came out holding her breath, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>blue as the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>After a few seconds of coaxing, she locked eyes with me and took her first breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>When the doctor placed her on my chest, she continued to gaze into my eyes with a look that said, “I know Mama, I love him too”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Now a month has gone by, five weeks to be exact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Marley weighs 9 pounds, 10 ounces, is 22 inches long and has no problem using her lungs to full capacity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Her eyes are deep blue and give the sense that behind them lays an old soul, one filled with knowledge, experience and mischief.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">She smiles in her sleep and I can’t help imagining it’s because her daddy is visiting her dreams, whispering in her ear everything that he’s not here to teach her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“Take care of your mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Smile and she’ll give you anything you want.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“Don’t let him kiss you, he drinks out of the toilet.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“Don’t cry.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>“Walk good.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Marley and I are a team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Neither of us knows what we’re doing, but we’re in this together and will figure it out one day at a time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ryan was supposed to be the good parent, the one with the patients and the one with the answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It was always my understanding that dads knew everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Because he is gone, it is now my job to supply the answers to the questions I know and make up the ones that I don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This baby would have had the greatest father in the world, but won’t ever meet him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>The last thing I’m concerned with is spoiling her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She wants to be held all day so I hold her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She wants to sleep on my chest so I let her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I will give her what she needs always; will be there to comfort, to hold and to listen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Marley doesn’t have her daddy, but she does have my love and my memories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I plan on showing her the world and teaching her everything I know while at the same time, sharing stories of her father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">“Winter, spring, summer or fall, all you’ve got to do is call and I’ll be there, yes I will.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>-Carol King</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uU-0NJHeCOM/TfN1GGz0GZI/AAAAAAAAACw/1VBi3J9wOa8/s1600/Sleeping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238px" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uU-0NJHeCOM/TfN1GGz0GZI/AAAAAAAAACw/1VBi3J9wOa8/s320/Sleeping.jpg" t8="true" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WgcPq3ql6MY/TfN1H7fhUHI/AAAAAAAAAC0/vqycRqYekLk/s1600/Smile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WgcPq3ql6MY/TfN1H7fhUHI/AAAAAAAAAC0/vqycRqYekLk/s320/Smile.jpg" t8="true" width="320px" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UhkmuUYcmPY/TfN2WxjvALI/AAAAAAAAAC4/5-ZbwG0PZM8/s1600/Brewer%2527s+Game+015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180px" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UhkmuUYcmPY/TfN2WxjvALI/AAAAAAAAAC4/5-ZbwG0PZM8/s320/Brewer%2527s+Game+015.jpg" t8="true" width="320px" /></a></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-45717556614149638202011-04-26T22:35:00.000-05:002011-04-26T22:35:31.010-05:00Smile with the Rising Sun<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">“The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created spring.”&nbsp; ~Bern Williams</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">A little over a month ago I woke up to a clear day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The sun was shining, the air was warm, and I could see clearly the day ahead of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Spring was here, the days were longer and as the sun melted the snow, it also began to clear the fog that had settled in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I knew something had changed when I caught myself making a joke during yoga.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Something that used to come so naturally took me by complete surprise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Such a small moment that went unnoticed by everyone but me, was a huge turning point in my healing process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span>It was like walking outside in early April and seeing the first signs of a tulip sprouting out of the frozen earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Winter can be relentless and often leaves its victims feeling like spring will never come, the ground forever frozen and inhospitable to life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Like grief, winter’s darkest days can make you forget what warmth the sun promises to bring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>My mind and body have been wrapped tightly in a womb of fog making even the simplest of tasks feel monumental and too often impossible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The last clear memories I have took place over six months ago in a time when I still knew who I was – a time when Ryan was as much a part of my past, present and future as I myself was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Once he was gone, I was gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>My friends, family, students and colleagues could all see me, but I wasn’t really there and only those who know me the best could see the emptiness in my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>These are the same people who first noticed the clarity begin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">It only takes a few warm days for the tulips to sprout.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Suddenly little green buds fill gardens, pots and ditches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>They can go unnoticed by many, but those who have been waiting the longest are rewarded with a feeling of anticipation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>What’s even more impressive is that the frost can come back, wrap its bitter hands around the struggling life and try to choke it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Amazingly, tulips are strong enough to fight the frost off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>They might lose their luster for a moment, but by mid afternoon, after just a little bit of warmth, they’re right back to growing strong and healthy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Just a few more clear warm days and these tulips will begin to show their true splendor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Soon the ground will be filled with vibrant colors reminding us that no matter how harsh a winter, life prevails and rewards us with beauty, warmth and light.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">Spring is an incredible time of year, based in hope, sprinkled in disappointment and sealed with promise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The love of my life is gone and I’ve accepted that he’s never coming back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The man I’ve had a crush on for years is no longer here to take care of me, spoil me or love me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Life has changed, but like the rays of sun to a tulip, acceptance has begun to warm my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The promise of Marley’s arrival has helped fight off grief’s bitter returns and I’ve begun to show my colors once again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The frost has come and gone and I have survived proving that no matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow.</span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-14774830466449659022011-03-21T21:57:00.001-05:002011-03-21T22:01:25.120-05:00You Make me Smile<div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 11pt;">I was looking through pictures from a road trip Ry and I took to Galena this summer.&nbsp; Strange how time can feel parallel, like it just happened, but also as if it were a million years ago.&nbsp; I came across a snapshot of Ryan, lighting a cigarette.&nbsp; I started wondering why I took such a picture when I noticed the GIGANTIC lighter.&nbsp; I quickly remembered the small moment between us…</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></div><div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: 11pt;">&nbsp; After hours of driving, Ryan had pulled off the street to admire a beautiful landscape indigenous only to the Driftless Area.&nbsp; He decided it was so special we had better toast our surroundings with cans of Miller Lite.&nbsp; He quickly disappeared behind the car and after digging around the back, appeared with two cold beers and his ever present pack of cigarettes.&nbsp; After some grumbling about the smoking and listening to, "Awh Krissy, we're on vacation..." I watched as he bowed his body to block the wind and continued to light his cigarette with the biggest most ridiculous lighter I had ever seen!&nbsp; This small act sent me into a fit of giggles which of course, was his plan all along.&nbsp; Ryan would do anything to make me laugh and I'm certain I will never meet another person who will work so hard for a smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>How lucky I am to have been loved by someone so incredibly dedicated to making me happy.</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-3IW6KVhMO_Y/TYgPtLzFgFI/AAAAAAAAACg/F6WnNcMbIGc/s1600/Galena+and+vball+2010+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-3IW6KVhMO_Y/TYgPtLzFgFI/AAAAAAAAACg/F6WnNcMbIGc/s320/Galena+and+vball+2010+001.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7632418881433342001.post-38398492542691380112011-03-06T20:53:00.000-06:002011-03-06T20:53:26.051-06:00My Fear is My only Courage<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">“It does not matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; –Confucius</span><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">I dreamt last night that I was taking an impossible test that I hadn’t a single answer to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This test held a great amount of importance and I was being watched by a large audience of my peers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>As if the unattainable answers weren’t daunting enough, there was a dark and menacing shadow, visible only to my eyes, stealing my pencils and blocking my every move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This test is my life, the shadow my grief and the audience is all of you, watching and waiting for me to pull through.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">I’ve been feeling pressure lately from those I love most to become bright and shiny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>They don’t mean to press, they just want so badly for me to be happy again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I get that, but not being one who is used to disappointing people, knowing that I cannot deliver this wish makes me feel like a failure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Turning my brights on takes tremendous energy and lately I’ve been too exhausted to even keep a dim light shinning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I’ve often asked how long a person is supposed to grieve and of course, there is no answer other than you grieve as long as you need to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Consequently, I’m beginning to accept that it is my time to be sad and this feeling will persist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>In accepting this, I am moving forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">For months I’ve been dreaming of Ryan and in these dreams he often rejects me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>For anyone who knew the ins and outs of our relationship, they know that this notion is ludicrous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s been suggested that this step away from reality actually represents my refusal to accept the fact that this experience has and will change me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Ryan rejecting me is actually myself rejecting the changes that have been forced upon me, the changes that I’ve been exhausting my energy to fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Maybe it’s time to come to terms with this change, begin to sort through the nuances of my new life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s been gently suggested to me that I may never feel as happy as I did with Ryan again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I will be happy, but never to the extent&nbsp;that I once experienced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>This I cannot accept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can work to wrap my mind around change, but I refuse to recognize the loss of happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Even in my darkest hours, which unfortunately have begun to come more often, I am able to see through the haze of sadness to a time of happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I will smile again, I will laugh and laugh and laugh and I will light up a room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I know I am moving forward because I no longer need to ask when this will happen because although I know that answer is not today or tomorrow, I do know that the day will come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>So for now, I will be sad, I will work through these changes, and remember that my fear is my only courage and so, I will push on through and find myself again.</span></div>Kristin Davishttps://plus.google.com/109347700666121449056noreply@blogger.com5